


Incarnate

by SummerNightmares (BlackDog9314)



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Angst, J2, M/M, One-Shot, RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-11-03 18:37:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10973049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackDog9314/pseuds/SummerNightmares
Summary: A look into Jensen and Jared's life.





	Incarnate

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first RPF ficlet, so please be gentle.  
> If angst or J2/RPF isn't your thing, please give this a wide berth :)

It's loud, almost deafeningly so.

Someone spills a drink beside them and it sends vodka and something else splashing up onto the overlong hem of Jared's jeans. Jensen pulls Jared carefully to the side out of habit even though it doesn't do much good; it startles Jared enough that he reaches out and unconsciously puts a hand on Jensen's forearm for balance.

The two girls Jared's been talking to for the last couple of minutes are clearly surprised by the gesture, their eyes wide and doe-like as they look from Jared to Jensen and back again. They've already taken a few pictures with them, and the polite thing to do would be to leave Jensen and Jared in peace for the rest of the evening so they can enjoy the concert. They've been looking forward to it all week, having been more than ready for a night or two off. While Jensen has pulled away somewhat from the three of them, a clear hint if ever there was one, Jared's southern manners won't let him do so comfortably or quickly; he's missed the last few minutes of Kaleo's rendition of Nancy Sinatra's 'Bang Bang' (one of Jensen's favorites).

But it's loud, and the music continues regardless of Jared's preoccupation with their fans. He's leaning forward to catch what one of the girls is saying, his tall frame bent almost comically. She has a huge smile on her face, and she's tugging absently at her hair as she talks excitedly.

Jared likes to make people smile.

Right now he's probably more pleased by the grin on her face than anything she could be saying to him, and Jensen feels something soften in his chest at the thought.

They've seen Kaleo often enough live. Being close friends with the band members makes it so that they get invited to their shows regularly and only end up paying for tickets a third of the time, and if Jared wants to talk to this twenty-something for a few more minutes Jensen isn't going to stop him. He relaxes somewhat then, resigned as he takes a sip from the water bottle he paid for at the bar earlier while he waits for the girls to disappear back into the crowd.

When they do at last, Jared turns to face Jensen, and Jensen straightens at the expression on his face.

"You ok?" he asks, practically shouting to ensure that he's heard.

Jared doesn't shake his head and he doesn't say no. He doesn't indicate that he even heard Jensen's question, but his hazel eyes are ringed with the faded dark of shadows Jensen knows are the product of insomnia and his prominent cheekbones are wide beneath them.

Jensen gestures to his left, where they know the venue's bathroom to be.

In a few minutes they're in the small, two-stalled room together and Jensen's locked the door behind them.

They are alone, and Jensen feels the muscles in his back and shoulders loosen at the thought, feels the goosebumps that almost always decorate his skin begin to dissipate. But this isn't about him and the way being around so many people so often like it's completely normal makes his skin itchy and tight where it's pulled over his muscles.

He focuses on Jared.

"What's goin' on?" Jensen asks as he sets his water down on the soap scum stained sink behind them.

"Sometimes none of it feels real," Jared says quietly.

Jensen reaches out and takes Jared's hands, both clammy and strangely dry under his fingertips.

It's loud even in the bathroom, and the mirror rattles with every deep thrum of the bass guitar and brassy clash of the cymbals.

"I'm real," he says firmly.

When Jared leans forward, Jensen takes him into his arms. The rustle of fabric fills his ears as the linen of Jared's overshirt pressing against Jensen's flannel overtakes the music and the people and their ceaseless footsteps.

Sometimes Jensen has to remind himself of the words he's just spoken.

They are real.

They are, and he doesn't know why it's so easy to forget.

Jensen closes his eyes, breathing in the scent of Jared's hair where it presses softly against his face.

"I'm real," he repeats, his voice a whisper as beyond the door, a song ends and the crowd erupts in raucous cheers.


End file.
